


Running Away

by quantumoddity



Series: Widomauk Courtesan AU [6]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Courtesan AU, M/M, Pining, Sex Work, Trans Male Character, Unplanned Pregnancy, trans Mollymauk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 10:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16093688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumoddity/pseuds/quantumoddity
Summary: Mollymauk Tealeaf had a good life. He was one of Zadash’s most prized, famous courtesans, desired by half a hundred different people, treasured and pampered.Until he fell in love. Until he got himself pregnant.And now he’s alone and scared and lost





	Running Away

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first full piece of writing for my Coutesan AU, you can find headcanons for it and a full timeline of events on my tumblr, @mollymauk-teafleak

It was a strange, empty thing, to know where the memories ought to be and feel only their absence, like the last step missed in the dark, the hole of a missing tooth.

Mollymauk Tealeaf saw the ocean for the first time with eyes that had seen it gods knew how many times before; he felt sand move around his feet, an unfamiliar sensation, and wondered if there was some hidden part of himself that was sighing with the relief of a heart returning home.

Not knowing what else to do after he got out of the carriage, he’d picked his way down the slope on which the city sprawled, walking until the grass gave way to stone and sand, until he couldn’t take another step without striding right into the surf. And now he was here, looking out at a land that remembered him but he had no recollection of.

His arms were beginning to ache.

Marion’s summer home was waiting for him, somewhere in the darkened town, close to where the carriage had dropped him off. But he didn’t want to go there yet, he didn’t want to face the empty rooms that hadn’t been lived in for months, everything covered in white cotton sheets and a fine film of grey dust. He didn’t want to rattle around sleeplessly in the unlit rooms, furnished in things that weren’t his own, to see his one measly, under stuffed pack sitting there, to toss and turn in a cold bed that smelled unfamiliar.

Not that he was ungrateful. Of course not, how could he be? Without Marion and the brass key she’d pressed into his palm, back on the doorstep of her boudoir as they’d said their goodbyes, he’d be on the streets. He pressed the bundle of blankets in his arms protectively against his chest just at the thought.

But he just couldn’t see how it would ever be his home.

But that didn’t matter. He’d never really had a home anyway; the brothel had been the closest he’d come. As long as it could be a home for his son, that was the only thing he cared about.

Still, Molly was putting it off as long as he possibly could. He was starting to shiver inside his robe as the wind whipped it around his legs, throwing sand against his boots where it would get caught in all the buckles and straps and be a bitch to clean out later. The night had taken a firm hold over the beach, the stars were clearly visible up above him, far brighter than they’d ever been in the city and the moon was an accusatory eye staring down from the sky, wondering why he was still awake. But he didn’t move.

The sea had a strange kind of gravity to it. Molly felt lost in the back and forth swell of the waves, reflecting the night sky back at him until it looked like an ocean of ink. He wanted to ask the waves if they knew him. Could they tell him everything he no longer remembered? Could they give him back the memories that someone had taken from him?

But Molly hated asking questions and not getting an answer. So he stayed silent, just watching the waves, feeling a heaviness in his heart.

The slumbering seaside town was so different from Zadash. Which should have gone without saying, he’d been expecting it, but the disparity was so sudden and so obvious, even after only having been here a few minutes, that it was more of a discomfort than a wonder. At this hour, the city would be alive. There would be music and the clinking of glass, counterpoint to singing, both sweet and thick with drink, and raised voices. He’d be preparing for work, washed and scented and draped in something silken and see through, stretched and warmed up and ready to perform. He’d be checking the book, last minute as always, to see who and what was required of him. He’d be telling himself he was just refreshing himself on his schedule but really, he’d be looking for the one name. And if it had been any night in the last months, that name would be all that appeared there and his heart would have thrilled to see it.

Caleb Widogast.

Molly squeezed his eyes shut as the tears built up in his eyes. He couldn’t think about that now. Not ever.

Thankfully Trinket chose that moment to stir, opening and closing his mouth until a hoarse, dry squeak emerged even as his eyes stayed shut. Molly shushed him softly, tucking the blanket around him just that little bit tighter to keep out the wind, cursing himself for standing out here like an idiot, exposing his only few days old baby to the elements.

“I’m sorry, daddy’s sorry,” he murmured softly, turning away and fleeing back up the beach, trying to curl around Trinket and shield him as best he could.

Mollymauk was finding himself apologising a lot ever since he’d become a father.

The ghost of the pain of bringing his little boy into the world still clung to Molly even now. It was a reminder of how much things had changed, how different he was now from who he’d been. He tried to imagine the old Molly- or rather, the young Molly- of half a year ago standing here right now, holding his child, facing a completely unknown future, opening the door to an empty, unfamiliar house and stepping inside.

When he thought about it like that, it was all so terrifying. But he had no choice.

He sat down on the nearest piece of shrouded furniture in the room, a couch, he assumed, from the shape of it and the way it gave a little underneath them. Velvet, probably. Marion loved velvet. She always joked it was just like her; soft and forgiving one way and rough and course in the other.

The tears prickled in his eyes again for thinking of Marion, the closest thing to a mother he’d ever had, now on the other side of the country. He swallowed them down, steeling himself as he let his robe fall and slipped the shoulder of his shirt down so Trinket could feed. They would come and go a lot over the next few days, he imagined. He just had to be strong.

The house wasn’t as bad as he’d been picturing. The moonlight coming in through the slats in the shutters silvered the whole place, chasing away the shadows a little. And there was the soft mumblings of Trinket in his arms, the gentle rhythmic thump of his tail against his daddy’s leg, his tiny little hand resting on his bare chest like a beached starfish, the warm smell of milk as it bubbled around his mouth for Molly to wipe away with a gentle thumb.

Molly cradled his tiny son, considered how much love could be contained in such an impossibly small parcel and found a smile creeping its way onto his face.

This town was strange, the memories were missing and the future was blank.

But Mollymauk wasn’t alone. And he never would be again.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit my tumblr, make requests, ask for headcanons or just say hello!
> 
> Please consider leaving a compliment!


End file.
